


the stars are pretty

by orphan_account



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Banter, Beaches, Fluff, M/M, Roadtrips, they go to hope's peak but it's not important to the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 13:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15389388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Saihara-chan,” Ouma whispers, “Put your arm around me all romantic-like.”





	the stars are pretty

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too happy with this, aha, I had a hard time conveying what I wanted and got lazy editing. but I wanted to publish it anyway even if it's a bit embarrassing... it's hard to write “"romantic”" saiouma (idk what that means take it with a grain of salt) because it feels silly and weird but I didn't want any angst because I love happiness! hope! all that stuff.  
> 

Shuuichi Saihara cannot find his wallet. He is in a convenience store at 11:56 pm.

In addition to this, Shuuichi Saihara has just graduated earlier today from Hope’s Peak Academy. In celebration of said graduation, he and a few friends decided to plan a roadtrip — though, it only takes two days to reach their destination so perhaps it’s a bit of a weak roadtrip. Either way, they decided to plan a roadtrip down to the beach.

They planned on leaving the morning after the ceremony, and this is what has led Shuuichi Saihara to be seemingly walletless in a convenience store at near-midnight. He is turning his pockets inside out, over and over again, and the bottle of aspirin and box of granola bars he has been instructed to buy last-minute are waiting expectantly for him to find said wallet. The lights above him hum quietly, shining that gross-feeling artificial sunshine throughout the store.

By some miracle, after mumbling an “um” to the disapproving cashier, he finds money in his pocket and pays for the two items. He leaves the convenience store concerned. It isn’t like him to forget his wallet. Maybe it’s because he was in a rush to buy this stuff last-minute.

Arriving home, Shuuichi slips off his shoes, notices he left his wallet right on a table next to the door, makes a mental note of it, and heads to his room. After changing into his pajamas he takes his phone from his pocket:

 **Me (12:03AM) :** Okay I got your stuff

 **Kokichi Ouma (12:05AM) :** maaan saihara-chan is the best!!!

 **Kokichi Ouma (12:05AM) :** hehehe thanks

 **Me (12:05AM) :** Left my wallet at home though so you got lucky since I found money in my pocket. I’m sleeping now see you tomorrow

 **Kokichi Ouma (12:06AM) :** see you tomorrow!!! don’t be late or we’ll leave without yaa!

Shuuichi inhales loudly through his nose, turns his alarm on and lights off, and closes his eyes. He vaguely hears cicadas outside and hopes it is a good omen.

 

x

 

As it quite expectantly turns out, Ouma is the late one. Shuuichi has packed a large number of bags into Rantarou’s car and is sitting on the curb next to Kaede and Miu, waiting. They received a text from him ten minutes ago claiming he would be there in five minutes.

Shuuichi taps his foot. This isn’t anything unusual, so he waits patiently. A small colony of ants trail along the bottom crack of the curb and he watches them intently.

The ants eventually retreat into their dirt mountain and Shuuichi looks back at Rantarou who is leaning against the car with his eyes closed, arms crossed tensely. He’s going to be doing an unfortunate amount of driving, and Shuuichi doesn’t blame for looking … stressed. Out of the five of them, he’s definitely the best driver, though, and even admitted that himself and so was given the liberty of driving.

In his head, Shuuichi wonders how this is going to go. A two-day trip to the beach was really all it was (best not to go too complicated) and they would stay at the beach for five days in a little condo. That was the only planning they had put into the event. The biggest problem was that there was no motel for the midway point. _It’ll be waay more fun if we just wing it,_ Ouma had said. And it probably _won’t_ be that hard to find a motel along the way — especially while on the expressway.

Shuuichi looks down the road and on cue, he spots Ouma running down the sidewalk, clutching a rugged blue drawstring bag to his chest and pulling a suitcase behind him. It’s a bit of an … awkward sight.

He stops in the end of the driveway, places his hands on his knees, panting, and huffs out, “Sorry I’m so late! I got hit by a car on the way here.” He straightens up and wipes off sweat on his forehead with the side of his arm. “Let’s goo now! Why are you all sitting around?”

Shuuichi doesn’t say anything but stands and moves toward the car. Miu sits up front next to Rantarou, and she immediately sticks her feet up on the dashboard and taps the dangly chain hanging from the rear-view mirror with her shoe. Kaede takes a window seat in the back and Shuuichi sits in the middle because Ouma begs him to give him the other window. When he sits down, presses about half his body weight into Shuuichi and moves his feet up against the wall next to the window.

“Comfortable?” Shuuichi asks, looking at his feet propped way up against the window.

“Yep! Oh, wait.” He shifts his leg momentarily and opens the window to let his feet hang outside the window. “Better.”

Shuuichi sighs as Rantarou turns the car on. He pulls out of his parent’s driveway and onto the street. “Give me a minute to get to expressway,” he says, “Before you get all rowdy.”

The car passes people walking their dogs and through small intersections and by the convenience store Shuuichi was in last night. He feels his pocket to make sure he remembered his wallet this time and sure enough, it is there. If he forgot it again — well, that would be just plain sad.

The wind from the open window whips his hair against his forehead and it makes Shuuichi wish he had gotten a haircut more recently. In addition to his own, Ouma’s hair flies against his cheek and neck in a haughty manner.

“Heey Rantarou-chan, it’s definitely been a minute. More than a minute, probably! When are you getting to the expressway?” Ouma quips.

“It was just a figure of speech,” Rantarou says, “But I’m pulling onto it now anyway.”

The car accelerates up the ramp and they enter the flow of traffic. Miu begins to fiddle around with the radio, switching between extremely unfunny talk show stations to music to sports until settling back on music. Shuuichi hears her quietly talking to Rantarou about something but can’t completely decipher everything they’re saying and decides to look out the window Kaede is next to.

It is quiet for a while which is strange, but Shuuichi figures it’s because everyone is tired. Ouma’s body is still shoved up against his, and his head is tilted to the side, indicating that he’s asleep. Or pretending to be asleep. Or he could simply be sitting in an ungraciously uncomfortable position.

Shuuichi isn’t sure when he dozes off, but it feels as though it only lasts a second before he lifts his head up to the sound of shouting.

“I’m not changing the fucking station!” This is Miu’s voice, Shuuichi thinks to himself.

“I reaally don’t want to have to listen to this garbage the rest of the way!” That is Ouma.

“Are you stupid? It’s one song, it isn’t going to play the whole time —”

“I don’t caare! Turn it ooff! I’ll come up and force you to do it if you don’t!”

“I-I’m — not — There isn’t even anything good on besides this anyway!” She turns around in her seat and reaches back to grab Ouma, but he immediately shoves his foot onto her forehead, eliciting a squeal.

Rantarou slams his palm against the power button to the radio. “Please stop,” he says, “For the sake of everyone.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m kind of … hungry. Can you get the granola bars, Kaede? They’re on the floor near your feet, I think.”

“I want one tooo!” Ouma says, contorting his body around and leaning across Shuuichi. Kaede passes the box around to everyone and Shuuichi thinks about his wallet again, briefly, while unwrapping the bar. _Now 20% More Protein!_ it reads. In addition to having more protein, it’s a bit stickier than he thought it would be and once he’s finished and discarded the wrapping into a plastic-bag makeshift trashcan, he wishes he had thought to bring napkins.

Ouma nudges his shoulder. “Hey Saihara-chan,” he says, rather slowly, “Need something to wipe your hands with?”

Shuuichi looks at him idly. “Yeah, but I don’t think anyone brought any napki—”

“Don’t worry about that!”

Before there is another moment to ask what he _means_ by that, Ouma grabs his hand and licks each of Shuuichi’s fingers clean. Miu and Rantarou pause their conversation mid-sentence — stopping on the word _disaster,_ which is funny — and Kaede looks up from her phone. The lack of music playing makes the sudden silence and stillness a thousand times more pronounced.

Ouma releases Shuuichi’s hand. “Isn’t that better? Now it isn’t sticky!” He’s smiling.

Shuuichi rubs his fingers against his shirt to wipe off some lingering spit, mouth agape and eyes wide. “Um,” he tries. Then: “You didn’t need to do it that way.” He feels as though whatever invisible gears that operate in his head have stopped suddenly. As though a cord was pulled. His face is very red.

“Ooh, really? I thought I was being nice.”

“Ah, yeah?” Shuuichi’s brain starts up again, the gears moving far too quickly for him to keep up with. “Guess I’ll return the favor.”

This isn’t a good idea and he knows it. His superego is screaming bloody murder.

He takes Ouma’s hand without giving himself the burden of thinking any more about it and licks his fingers — slowly. Slower than he should have. But there isn’t any going back now. His fingers taste like the granola bar and… sweat. He releases the hand and looks at Ouma, who has his very signature _Blank Stare_ expression, staring dully into the optic cavities of Shuuichi’s skull.

He hears Rantarou splutter from the driver’s seat. “What is going on?”

“Lot of tension back here,” Kaede mumbles. Miu cackles.

“Ah, I was just — you know. P-Payback.” Shuuichi feels his face heat up again. The gears slow down. He looks at his hand, then at Ouma’s, then at Ouma’s face. It is still blank, though this is brief.

“Ah-haha! I’ll remember that, Saihara-chan. Don’t worry about it, though!” Shuuichi doesn’t know how to interpret what Ouma means by that and can only blink in response.

Shuuichi turns his body towards Kaede, crossing his arms against his chest to try to make himself small. Rantarou and Miu pick up their conversation again, which was apparently about the graduation ceremony. Kaede mentions how horrifically long it was and then everyone’s chiming in.

Internally, Shuuichi is very worried. _This is what you get,_ his superego says.

 

x

 

Several long hours later, Rantarou pulls into a motel parking lot. Shuuichi shuffles out of the car, drawstring bag in hand with a new pair of clothes and toothbrush and so on inside of it, and follows him into the lobby. He leans against the side of a chair and waits for Rantarou to get rooms. There was a long argument between him and Kaede about who should pay for them and he seemed to have won — though Shuuichi didn’t understand why he would want to pay for the rooms _and_ drive as well. Nevertheless he was glad he wasn’t paying.

Rantarou hands a room card to Shuuichi. “All the rooms with two beds are sold out, so I had to get three rooms. Kaede and Miu are in 105, I’m in 106, you and Ouma can be in 107.”

Shuuichi takes the card. He looks at Rantarou meekly. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Saihara,” the other replies, then heads off outside for his room, hands in pockets.

Shuuichi leaves the lobby to find Ouma, who had not come inside with everyone else. He sees him leaning against the wall of the motel, looking up at the sky. He appears distracted.

“We’re in the same room,” Shuuichi says quietly after a minute. Ouma looks back to him.

“Woow! Just the two of us? That’s like fate, Saihara-chan!” He hurries over in the black-haired boy’s direction and plucks the room card from his hand with his index finger and thumb.

Shuuichi bites the bottom of his lip and walks along the side of the motel on the illuminated path to their room. At 107, he waits a moment while Ouma swipes the card and throws the door open.

The room is… fine. It smells like a motel does — dusty, damp, like wood — and is quite cold. It’s the size Shuuichi imagined it would be, and the bed is smack in the center of the room, decorated in putrid green blankets and white pillows. There is a desk and chair as well, and a safe and fridge.

As he’s putting his bag down on the bed and taking out his change of clothes and toothbrush, Shuuichi’s phone vibrates:

 **Rantarou Amami (12:22AM) :** sleep well :)

 **Me (12:22AM) :** What is that supposed to mean…

 **Rantarou Amami (12:24AM) :** haha who knows

 **Rantarou Amami (12:24AM) :** anyway thinking of leaving around 8:30 tomorrow so be ready around then

 **Rantarou Amami (12:24AM) :** they have free breakfast here so feel free to go there I’ll be there, probably

 **Rantarou Amami (12:25AM) :** unless you want another granola bar

 **Me (12:26AM) :** Funny

He puts his phone down, grimacing, and maneuvers into the bathroom to brush his teeth and change into his pajamas. He stares at himself in the mirror as he brushes, tilting his head around to see what he looks like at various angles. Then he spits in the sink and turns to the door after putting on his pajamas. Through the doorway, he stares at Ouma, sitting criss-cross on the bed on his phone, also in his pajamas — long sleeve black t-shirt, white sweatpants. It is fitting. Shuuichi looks down at his black t-shirt and fleece plaid pants and feels tense.

It’s always this way with Ouma. Always tense. And he knows that Ouma notices it, because he plays dumb, and he plays dumb very poorly. It began to feel tense a good many months ago, perhaps around the time when Ouma and he were partners for a project during school. They had known each other a while, but this is when the Tenseness began. Part of the problem was that even now he could sometimes not tell when Ouma was lying or not. He would flirt — strangely — with Shuuichi, and then act as though it was a joke. Was it a joke? Was it not?

“You can brush your teeth if you want,” Shuuichi finally says after standing in the doorway for too long.

Ouma bounces to his feet. “Okaay!” He slips past into the bathroom.

Shuuichi sits down on the bed and pulls the blankets up to his chest. The sheets feel grainy. He’s a bit nervous about sleeping next to Ouma, for a few reasons. The first notable one is because he’s not sure what the normal distance is to sleep next to him. Sure, he’s slept next to Rantarou and Kaede and his other friends, but that’s different. And he’s in the room with Ouma _alone._ Shuuichi certainly doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

He closes his eyes, and —

— is almost immediately shaken awake when Ouma hops onto the space of the bed behind him. “Saihara-chaan! It’s so cold!” He buries under the blanket and kicks his leg into the back of Shuuichi’s knee. “Pay attention to mee!”

Shuuichi turns around and faces Ouma. His heart is thrumming.

“C-Could you turn around and turn off the light?”

Ouma flips his body and quickly snaps off the lights. He turns back to Shuuichi, face outlined by the lights outside the window. It makes his eyes look watery, though not as if he’s been crying. They make his eyes shine and glow. The world is slowing around Shuuichi, warping into swirls and repeating patterns. Looking at him makes all his comprehension of thought fly out the window.

For what reason, even?

“Hey Saihara-chan,” Ouma says again, slowly like he had before in the car.

“Y-Yeah?”

“What are your thoughts on me?”

Shuuichi’s mouth twitches. That was a loaded question, and he had a potentially loaded answer. It would probably be best for him to forgo that answer, so instead he plays pretend and asks, “What do you… mean by that?”

“Liiike…” Ouma sits up a bit, perched on his elbow, hand supporting his cheek. His hair shines from the lights outside. “What are your thoughts?”

Clearly Ouma notices that he is evading directly answering. Shuuichi wonders if he should give in to his terrible, annoying impulses or think out a coherent response. He tries to go for something in the middle and offers, eloquently: “Ah… I mean, I like being your friend.”

That’s not what he was trying to say at all. He completely missed the dartboard.

“Hmm… me too. I think I like just being friends. You know?”

Shuuichi looks at him. A lie? A truth? Ouma’s facial expression hasn’t changed so it is truly impossible to tell.

“Is that… it, Ouma?” he ventures.

“Yes. I really do like just being friends with you.”

Shuuichi frowns. He sits up on his elbow as well, and reaches his hand up.

He places his hand on the side on Ouma’s face, tentatively, and rubs his thumb on the other’s lip. Ouma flits his tongue out at the finger.

Shuuichi reflexively draws his hand back, face warm. “Wh— Why do you keep doing that to me?! Do you have some kind of oral fixation?”

“Heehee… you’re so funny sometimes, Saihara-chaan!” Ouma sings out the last bit.

“I was trying to c-convey something to you! Don’t just lick my finger.”

“Oh? Were you? I couldn’t tell. Couldn’t read the air! What were you trying to say?”

Shuuichi sighs and looks at the bedsheets. He’s considering making something up but Ouma would notice and they’d go in circles. He cannot make eye contact to do this, even though it’s dark in the room. He wills the gears in his brain to speed way back up. This is the ideal setting for him to _share how he feels,_ anyway. Best to go for it.

“I, ah. I like you too.” That’s all he says. It’s all the words his tongue can form. Hopefully it comes across the way he wants it too.

“Mmhmm.” Ouma touches Shuuichi’s face; runs his fingernail down the side. “I think that’s interesting.”

Shuuichi looks back up in slow motion. “Is… it?”

Ouma doesn’t answer. He furrows his brow and grips Shuuichi’s chin. Then: “Would Saihara-chan like a kiss? From the Ultimate Supreme Leader, no less?”

Shuuichi opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. He isn’t really sure what’s going on; it’s all very disorienting. He reaches out, once again, time moving through syrup, and slides his hand across Ouma’s face. A calm washes through the motel room, smoothing out all the tension. Shuuichi pulls Ouma in and kisses him, close-mouthed, very quickly.

“Come on, Saihara-chan,” Ouma says quietly afterwards, “That was lame.”

Shuuichi’s determination skyrockets through the roof and he hauls Ouma back to kiss him properly this time around. He takes his time and focuses on the sensation of Ouma’s mouth. What was he thinking about earlier? A normal space to sleep between the two of them? Perhaps that was a bit silly. He was overthinking. Probably.

“Hold on,” Ouma mumbles, moving toward Shuuichi’s neck to bite around. He sucks with his tongue and his teeth and licks up to Shuuichi’s ear, earning a _Hmm._

“Please kiss me again,” Shuuichi says, sliding one hand down Ouma’s side and resting it on his hip.

Ouma kisses the corner of Shuuichi’s mouth before extending his fingers across his lips. “Maybe later.” He presses his middle and ring finger into his mouth and his other hand disappears somewhere.

Shuuichi sucks Ouma’s fingers without being told to. He runs his tongue along the side of each finger; cranes his neck when Ouma shoves his hand farther in.

He removes his fingers. “Hmmm-hmm — What were you saying about oral fixation earlier? Seems ironic now.”

 

x

 

The car ride the next morning begins the exact way it had the previous day — quietly. Before they all clamber into the car, Rantarou glances at Shuuichi’s neck and smirks. “Nice,” is all he says prior to jumping into the driver’s seat. Shuuichi feels his cheeks burn pink and wrings his hands awkwardly in response.

Miu plays around with the radio again in a desperate search for bearable music. “One day I’m gonna make my own fuckin’ radio talk show station and it’ll be way better than all the crap they have these days,” she says in a bizarre matter-of-fact way.

“What would you talk about?” Kaede asks.

“I dunno yet, but it would be good. I’d have famous people for guests and all that. People could call in for, y’know. Stuff.”

“Stuff,” Rantarou repeats.

The conversation floats off into the background. Ouma is sitting the same way he was before, feet out the window and most of his body weight pressing into Shuuchi. It’s decidedly more comfortable than last time.

“Saihara-chan,” he whispers, “Put your arm around me all romantic-like.”

Shuuichi complies. There’s no reason for him to not, and besides, he kind of would like to anyway. His brain feels fuzzy. He’s tired — didn’t sleep much last night — and little by little lets his eyes close and leans his head against Ouma’s.

He hears Kaede say “cute” faintly.

That’s the last thing he’s acutely aware of hearing, though the music from the radio drifts in and out of his consciousness like white noise. Sleeping in cars is like this: being somewhat aware of the surroundings while still floating in dreams. His dreams are warm. He can’t remember them, but — he knows this.

Shuuchi tilts his head up after what seems like twenty minutes, but upon looking at his phone, finds that three hours have passed. The crook of his neck hurts and it cracks loudly when he rolls it.

“How much looonger?” Ouma whines out.

“Another four hours, probably,” Rantarou says. “Can’t really do anything about it, sorry.”

“Drive faster!”

“I’ll just get a ticket and then it’ll take longer.”

“No, you’ll be completely fine.”

Rantarou doesn’t say anything for a moment. His hands tighten around the steering wheel.

“Saihara, how’d you sleep?”

“Oh — uh, g-great.” Shuuchi bites his bottom lip. “How did you sleep?”

“Great. Peacefully. A bit lonely, though.” He’s grinning.

The song ends on the current radio station and commercials begin to play. Miu turns the dial, hunting for something else. “I thought the motel was pretty fuckin’ cold,” she says. “Kaede tried figuring out the stupid AC but it kept turning back on.”

“O-Oh, yeah. It was kind of c—“

“It was cold at first but Saihara-chan kept me aaall nice and warm! Right? Right?” Ouma suddenly shakes Shuuichi by the shoulder and he feels his face heat up.

“Did you? That’s so kind of you, Saihara,” Rantarou says. Shuuichi sees him smirking through the rear-view mirror.

“What a gentleman.” Kaede pats his other shoulder.

Miu laughs out loud, says something about _Saihara’s finally not a fuckin’ virgin now!_  but Shuuichi’s blocking it out now, burying his face in his hands. Embarrassing. Embarrassing. He will never hear the end of this.

Ouma pries his hands away and kisses him on the cheek, wetly and obscenely loud.

 

x

 

They arrive at the rental condo “earlier than expected” according to Rantarou. Once parked, they begin to carry all the bags inside, grumbling from each trip to the car and back. Shuuichi, Kaede and Miu carry most of the weight, because they feel bad for Rantarou since he drove all day, and Ouma most definitely won’t carry more than he needs to.

Shuuichi brings in the last suitcase and finds Rantarou in the kitchen corner with a cup of water.

“I think we should just dump all the food on the counter and sort it tomorrow,” Rantarou says, shoving a few plastic bags against the marbled surfacetop to make more room. “I’m tired and don’t want to use any more of my brain than I have to.”

Everyone silently agrees, changes into their pajamas and retreats into their respective rooms.

The condo is nice, Shuuichi thinks. Nicer than it was advertised on the website. The walls are light blue and decorated with tons of landscape paintings. The living room is decently sized and has a big beige couch adorned with tons of multicolored pillows. The room he and Ouma are staying in has striped teal and white bedsheets and an ugly (but charming, at least) white headboard. Ouma has kindly thrown his suitcase on the ground and half of his belongings are already strewn about the floor.

Shuuichi brushes his teeth and steps into his room. It’s quiet, and this is because Ouma isn’t there, he realizes.

He glances into the living room and kitchen area. He isn’t there either.

The last place he can think of to check is the balcony, which connects from the living room. He tries to quietly open it up but it creaks obnoxiously and he cringes.

There Ouma is, looking up at the sky again. He looks distracted, as he had before.

Shuuichi waits a moment before stepping outside, though Ouma definitely knows he’s there already because of the loudness of the door. He stands next to him and leans against the railing. The only sound for miles is the hush of ocean waves whispering against sand.

It’s strange to see Ouma like this — so quiet. So in thought. Shuuichi wouldn’t say that he has taken down his mask of nonseriousness, but then again… He still hasn’t said anything. It isn’t like him. Others have observed Ouma doing things like this sometimes, but he never lets it linger long enough for people to put much thought into it.

He looks calm. His eyes are different. Less intense.

“The stars are pretty, don’t you think?” Ouma whispers.

Shuuichi doesn’t say anything for a minute. He touches Ouma’s hand, links their fingers together.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading ! comments and kudos and whatnot are appreciated  
> also: did you catch the irony in this? rantaro being the best at driving but disliking cars in canon? full of surprises


End file.
